


i bet you look good on the dancefloor

by Colordrained



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Hunters, Blow Jobs, Concert, Dean is a bit sumbissive, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Music, Public Sex, References to Arctic Monkeys, it's an arctic monkeys concert :)))
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 02:31:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1493410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colordrained/pseuds/Colordrained
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's the music. It has to be the music that makes Dean feel like he can do this. Then again, Cas's eyes are making a pretty compelling argument too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i bet you look good on the dancefloor

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the time Emily went to the bathroom at an AM concert and 505 rang through the walls so fucking beautifully 
> 
> The songs that are referenced to:  
> 1\. Arabella  
> 2\. Fluorescent Adolescent  
> 3\. R U Mine?  
> 4\. 505
> 
> Um the title is an AM song.
> 
> Enjoy? Xx

This was one of the benefits of being twenty-six. He was out of college, and had just had enough time to get his bearings on the world, and make some money. He was more free than he'd ever been: the only obligation he had was a job, really. Just his nine hour shift at the garage five days a week. So this whole twenty-six thing had a lot of perks, but this was probably Dean's favorite. 

Concerts. God, yes, _concerts_.

He'd been to five this summer, so he figured he'd better end it with a bang. So there he was, mid-September, the leather jacket on his shoulders making him feel at home, and the bass in the air making him feel invincible. 

It was pretty obvious once they announced the date in St.Louis that Dean had would go. He'd make the 7 hour drive, stay in some shitty hotel, and he'd see them. It would take more than a couple hundred miles to keep him from seeing Arctic Monkeys. 

This band was his secret. The guys at the garage would give him endless shit if they ever caught him listening to it instead of his classic rock. But god, did Dean love them. It wasn't just the lyrics, or the instruments or songs, but the feeling he got. There was this disposition that sunk into his veins, one that classic rock sure as hell never brought. It was a combination of a hundred different things, and he had made a promise to himself to go to a tour date just to feel it in person. 

And being twenty-six, he did just that. 

It was better than he would have thought. 

He didn't even know all the songs, but it didn't matter, because god, did he feel good. The music was just the right amount of overwhelming to make you numb and giddy, but not to make you suffocate. Dean didn't think he could be, or had ever been, this happy.

The venue was small and the stage was all but fifty feet from him. He smiled and sang, and ignored everyone else in the room and loved every damn second of it. The bass gave the room a nice weight, and the guitar gave it an energy. Alex's voice was a low hum of something brilliant and Dean felt sedated with it. 

All he could focus on was the stage. His eyes seemed to blur all the lights and people around him, letting him see the band in complete clarity. It was surreal. Dean was glad that everything else seemed to fade; that's all he really needed to focus on anyways. 

He sang along to this song. It was probably his favorite. Not quite fast and not quite slow, a ring of guitar through almost the whole song. The drums were accented and made something deep inside of you feel light as air. Everything about this song was incredible, and the fact that it was no longer just in his headphones, but instead moving through his whole body, was one of the most sensorily pleasing feelings in the world. 

He was so encapsulated by the music that he hardly noticed the new presence. God, though, did he feel the sweep of the man's hand across the back of his own. Everything was heightened, apparently, because Dean's whole body buzzed from the touch. 

Dean, for the first time that night, took his eyes off the band. It was worth it.

The man had a shocking color of blue in his irises, creamy skin, stubble lining his jaw, the prettiest blush colored lips, fluffy chestnut hair, and a smirk that made Dean's knees want to give. 

"You like this song. Like, more than the others." The man said, lips almost close enough to brush his ear. Dean's pretty sure he forgot everything he ever knew about speaking to people. 

"I- yeah. Yeah, this is, um, yeah. My favorite, actually." 

The man smiled, "well, then I certainly won't ruin the experience. I can wait." 

Dean found himself shaking his head immediately, "No! No, uh, it's no problem." And then after a moment, "I'm Dean." He extended his hand.

"Cas," said the man, the grin still on his face, taking Dean's hand and giving a firm handshake. His hands reminded Dean of his soft leather jacket. He liked Cas.

"Nice to meet you, Cas." Dean says, the song still thrumming through his veins. He felt particularly otherworldly. 

Cas pushes his hands into his pockets and breathes in deep, looking Dean in the eye, "you're the only one like me that I can find here." 

Dean scans the crowd of teenagers and nods back at Cas, "yeah. Yeah, uh, that's the truth, ain't it?" 

Cas stares at him for a minute and doesn't say anything, and Dean is starting to think maybe time is moving slower than he knows. The song is still playing. 

"You, Dean, are..." Cas laughs and shakes his head, "you're one of the most attractive people I've ever seen. And I don't know about you," Cas gets about two inches from his face, "but this music is doing _so_ many things to me." 

Dean can feel the blush on his cheeks burning, and goddamn, he isn't one to come onto strangers, but Cas was driving him insane. It had only been two minutes judging from the song, but Dean finds himself wanting to know every single damn thing about Cas.

"Yeah," Dean rasps out, finding it extremely hard to make eye contact with eyes as bright as his, "yeah. I...Uh...fuck, you are pretty." Dean doesn't know why he says it, but he does, cradling Cas's cheek in his hand. Cas smiles. 

"That makes this easy, then, does it not?" Cas says.

Dean nods numbly, feels Cas's thumb drag across his check, and that's it, he's gone. 

"I'm gonna kiss you, now, Cas." 

Cas leans in, and Dean experiences a feeling like nothing else in the world. His head is spinning from the kiss, flesh burning up with the feeling of spontaneity, senses overwhelmed with the feeling of Cas's hands and the sound of the guitar and the smell of cigarette smoke and the taste of Cas and everything, god, everything is so good and intense. 

It's a new song; upbeat, one that makes Dean want to break all the rules. So maybe he will. 

He pulls away from Cas, "I want...god, I want to do so much." 

Cas swallows, then his lips cut into a smirk. "Come on," he takes Dean's hands and pulls him to what Dean imagines is the bathrooms, and Dean doesn't think he's ever felt like this. Not that time he was eighteen and he snuck out to go to some dumbass party. Not the time he tried weed for the first time at sixteen behind the school's parking lot. Not even driving his car 95 miles per hour down an empty interstate. Not once has he ever felt so incredibly right doing something so wrong. 

A small amount of panic bubbles up in Dean when he realizes it's a multiple-stall bathroom. Cas solves this by (surprisingly quickly) shoving the trash can under the doorknob as to prevent anyone from coming in. Well, there's something else illegal to add to the list. Dean looks him in the eye and waits. Cas starts laughing, soft. 

Then Cas shoves Dean up against the wall. Dean responds with a low moan. 

"Oh, god, you're one of the ones who makes a lot of noise, aren't you?" Cas bites his neck, licks over it, and Dean just gasps, not really feeling like he can do anything else. 

"God, yeah, sorry," Dean huffs out, grinding his hips up into Cas. 

"No, no, don't you dare say sorry," Cas bites again, "it's good." 

Because he is shoved against the wall, he makes the _fabulous_ discovery of the fact that the music rings though every part of the building. The bass thrums though the walls, every note carries through the air. It's Cas, and seclusion, and the music, and a feeling so good he doesn't know what to do. 

He needs to reciprocate. While he loves every second of Cas marking up his neck, he has never been one of those people who can just lay there and take everything. He's got to do something for Cas.

"Can I-" Cas dips his tongue into the hollow at the base of his throat, which causes Dean to keen particularly loud, "fuck- Cas- can I blow you? Like, please?" 

Cas curses, nods, and kisses Dean again. Dean could drown in the feeling of kissing him. 

"You can feel the music if you- um-" Dean grabs him and switches their spots, lightly pushing Cas against the red brick wall. Cas's eyes close, and Dean can see him drinking in the song. "This one. You like this one."

"Favorite one, actually." Cas smirks at him. 

Dean smiles and kisses him one more time for good measure, before getting down on his knees. The floor is particularly hard and it kind of hurts, but Dean's a bit too aroused to care. It takes him a little too long to get Cas's jeans undone, because his hands are shaking, but Cas doesn't seem to mind. 

Cas says things like, "God, Dean, you're gorgeous." And then, "you're even more gorgeous when you blush," and Dean makes a point to get his mouth around Cas's dick as soon as possible so the incredibly sweet compliments can stop. 

It works. Cas groans and lets his head loll back against the wall. 

Cas likes cursing, which is _absolutley_ fine with Dean. Dean tries his very best to make it good, to go down as far as he can, to just barely skim his teeth along the length of him, to run his tongue in all the right spots, to trace his fingers over Cas's hipbones ever-so-lightly, to hum, and to occasionally peek up at Cas. It works. The song changes again, a song that makes him feel so incredibly badass, with guitar riffs that make him want to moan, and so he does. 

"God, you like the music, don't you? Like, fuck Dean, you really like it." 

Dean comes up for air and nods, "it just. It does something, I don't know," and with that he gets his mouth back around Cas. Dean really likes sucking people off. He likes how it feels and what he can do to the person and how good he can make someone else feel and how small he feels compared to the person. He just loves it. 

Given the enthusiasm, and the music egging him on, Cas is gone by the end of the song. Dean listens close to Cas as he comes, and somehow Dean can completely tune out the music to hear Cas. Cas lets out a soft breath of, "fuck". He laces a hand through Dean's hair, but doesn't pull. 

Dean has to get up and spit into the sink, because honestly he's never been good at swallowing, but Cas seems to care less. Cas shoves him against the wall again and undoes his jeans, 

"You're incredible, Dean, thank you. Thank you so much. I'm- I like you against the wall, is that okay? Is this okay? My hand? Is that-"

"Yeah, Cas, fuck, it's all really good. All of it- anything is good. You're good," and he kisses him again. Dean loves kissing. It's so overwhelming, Dean just loves how he can flood himself with so much at once. 

Just when he though nothing could be better then Cas's lips, Cas's hand sinks around him and, oh, god, that's too good. Dean whimpers into him, and Cas sort of laughs, and the song turns into something slow and sweet. Dean doesn't know the words, but the melody is intoxicating. Dean kisses back hard, but then Cas moves his mouth to his neck. 

That's when he notices that Cas is sort of the best person to ever give him a hand job. Dean finds himself making a little more noise than he wishes, but who fucking cares. Cas hums against his skin, and Dean lets himself feel lost. 

It's a little embarrassing how fast he comes, but once again, who fucking cares. The orgasm hits him slow, and the best part is the second before, where the heat in his abdomen builds like nothing else. Dean moans a little too loud, but Cas cuts him off with a kiss. 

Their chests are heaving and they both feel so loose, so wonderfully loose, and Dean is left laughing. "We just- we just got off in the bathroom. What. What the fuck, this is incredible."

Cas laughs too, does his jeans up, and does Dean's too. They look at each other for a minute.

"Thank you," Dean says, "really." 

Cas shakes his head, "thank _you_ , Dean. You're... god, you're just..." He kisses Dean. 

Dean pulls away, "let's get out of this room so other people can not kill us for being in here forever, then we can. Like. Kiss a lot."

Cas smiles, and they try their best to duck their heads away from the angry line of people outside the door.

Cas lightly presses him up against the back wall of the venue. Dean doesn't even care that the band is fifty feet away anymore. He's just thankful for the music, and for the pair of lips on his cheek. 

"I'm glad we both have good tastes in music, Dean."

**Author's Note:**

> Yooo I hope you liked it. Also I hope you get to have an orgasm to an AM song it's a beautiful thing. ((I love comments so much))


End file.
